The Story


30 years ago brought the first superhumans, regular people given great power seemingly at random.

15 years ago brought the paranormals, stranger and often weaker in their abilities, but far more numerous.

Today, the world holds its breath...

Or at least, it should.

Most people, though, are just trying to get on with their lives; some successfully, some less so. It's a sensible goal, but it's a bit hard to achieve when shadowy conspiracies and worldwide N.G.O.s are turning your city into a proxy battleground over world-shattering secrets. 

It's bad enough when you've just woken up with superpowers and terrorists are holding your school hostage. It's even worse if you're an illegal vigilante stuck in the middle of the whole Charlie Foxtrot after a supervillain raid drops vital information in your lap. 

For Hannah Eiling-Kingsford and Flint Perez, life is about to get a lot harder to get on with.

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Outliers is a superhero story. Okay, so not so much superhero as vaguely superhero-ish. It's about two teenagers dealing with, among other things, new powers, psycho exes, mysterious datapads and a giant, secret war between the foremost powers-that-be, over information that could forever change the world.

Again.

You know, normal teenage stuff.


Outliers updates Thursdays and Sundays at midnight AEST.

New 25-III

HANNAH
Crazy Random Happenstance.

In the end, Kai ended up carrying me all the way home. I would’ve protested, but I really didn’t have any other options. Besides, I figured it wouldn't be too bad. Mom usually ended up working Saturday nights, and Dad had said he had a meeting.

So it came as no small surprise when we rounded the corner and found my house lit up like a christmas tree.

“D*mn,” Kai said, either not noticing or ignoring my sudden reticence. “This is a nice neighbourhood.”

“Uh, yeah,” I stammered. “Listen, I can make it from here. Thanks so much for all your help-” I disentangled myself from her, took one step and immediately fell flat on my face.

“Sure you can,” Kai said dryly as she hauled me back onto my feet. “Which one’s yours?”

I groaned, half in pain and half in defeat. “Fourth on the right.”

The door opened almost immediately after the bell, to reveal my dad standing there. He froze, eyes darting between Kai and I. I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, he enveloped me in a crushing hug.

“dad,” i choked out. “Air.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He released me, stepping back. “We were just so worried-”

“David, who’s- HANNAH!”

“No!” I cried before I could stop myself. “No hugging,” I repeated, calmer. “Please. I’m very sore.”

Mom stopped halfway to me, slowly lowering her outstretched arms. “Oh. Of course.” I couldn’t quite read her expression.

We were hustled inside and into the kitchen. Kai tried to protest, but we were still entangled, and it got lost in the rush. She ended up sitting next to me on one of the kitchen stools, holding a steaming mug of tea and looking slightly bemused.

“What happened?” Mom demanded immediately. “Why weren’t you answering your phone?”

“We’re so glad you’re safe,” Dad added.

“We were so worried! How did you get hurt?!”

“We're so glad you're safe,” Dad repeated, glancing at Mom.

She backed off slightly. “Yes, of course. So glad.” Her glare still said how dare you, though.

“We, uh. Uh.” I glanced down at my own mug, trying to hide my face. I’d been too out of it to think of coming up with a story. “I was, er. It was-”

“We at the station,” Kai interjected smoothly, “when that… when it happened.” She sounded perfectly convincing as she lied. “Hannah got hurt in rush, but the whole area was in chaos. We thought it would be safer to get away rather than try and get to the hospital.”

My dad nodded, a bit teary. Mom looked less convinced. “And what were you doing at the station? And why didn’t we know you were there?”

I couldn’t muster up the energy to try and respond. “Sorry,” I muttered, head down.

“We’re just glad you’re okay,” Dad reassured me.

“And who are you?” Mom turned on Kai, who seemed a bit surprised by the sudden attention. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Uh, my name’s Kai, ma’am.” Good call with the ma’am. “I’m, uh. I’m Hannah’s… friend.”

“That’s odd,” Mom replied suspiciously, “I don’t remember Hannah ever mentioning you be-”

Dad cut her off, laying a hand on her shoulder. “She’s Hannah’s friend, Sam,” he said with a slight grin. Oh no. “It’s very nice to meet you, Kai. Thank you for bringing our daughter home safe.”

“Uh,” she muttered, shrinking in her seat like she was trying to melt into it. “No problem.”

-----

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said quietly. Kai had made up an excuse about needing to go, and we stood on the front porch. “You didn’t have to do… any of this, I guess.”

She shrugged, a little awkwardly, hands in pockets. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t.”

“Well, uh. Thanks.”

Was she intentionally avoiding eye contact? “No problem.”

“Also,” I added, wincing slightly, “I think my parents think we were, uh. You know.”

She was definitely doing it deliberately. “What?”

I coughed. “You know.”

“This?” And then she kissed me.

It was… it was…

Well, it was private.

She drew back, leaving me standing there, gaping slightly. “I’ll, uh, call you.”

All I could do as she walked off into the night was mumble agreement. 

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New 25-II

FLINT
All The Times That You Beat Me Unconscious.

I clawed my way back up out of the darkness, and shot upright with a gasp.

I spun around frantically, heart pounding as adrenaline rushed through my system. Where was he, I needed to-

I froze, then sucked in a deep, slow breath. Calm, Flint. It’s over.

It’s over.

“Holy shit, I survived,” I said out loud. On some level, I honestly hadn’t expected to. Which was… worrying.

I hadn’t been out for more than a few minutes, I was pretty sure. The moon overhead was in pretty much the same place, and the all the blood had only just begun to congeal. That was good; if I’d been unconscious for longer than that it was probably a pretty good sign of lasting brain damage.

I let myself flop back onto the ground, and immediately regretted it as the motion made my ribs flare with pain. Oh right, I’m seriously injured. As if the thought had flicked a switch, awareness of all the places my body was fucked up came rushing back, including some I hadn’t been aware of before then. For example, my legs ached like a bitch, probably from the fall, and… I flicked my tongue around a bit inside my mouth experimentally. Yep, one of my teeth was wiggling around. Fuck me, that was gonna be hard to explain away.

I sighed, staring up at the stars. I really should get up and destroy the datapad, I thought tiredly. I should do that right now.

I continued to lie there.

Until, that is, the corpse next to me began to move.

“NO!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, shooting awkwardly to my feet. It was shaking and shivering, jolting around, and the fragments of head lying on the ground were too. “NO! YOU CAN NOT! I AM SO FUCKING DONE WITH ALL YOUR GODDAMN BULLSHIT-”

With a wet, gristly noise, the body came apart. The fragments that had previously spun in a vortex fell limply onto the ground, forming a bizarre pile of skin, meat and bone. I stared at it for a second, then sagged. Okay, so. Weird and gross, but better than the alternative. I resolved to come back with Lis and set fire to the pile, just in case.

I was about to turn towards the datapad, when a glimmer in the pile caught my eye. I frowned, turning back. Was that-

White crystals rose slowly out of the meat, streaming together, and then Edith reformed from them and dropped down to the ground.

I stared at her, frozen in shock. “H- you- how?!” I stammered.

She ignored me, straightening up and looking around. She must have shifted just before getting… absorbed, I guessed. It couldn’t have been pleasant or easy; she was so emaciated now that I was pretty sure I could actually see the white of her bones through her skin.

“Where is it?” she said flatly.

I glanced around, and spotted it in the corner of my eye, almost directly behind me. My body must’ve been blocking it from her. “Edith,” I said slowly. “It’s not going to help.”

“Where,” she repeated, “Is. It.”

“E,” I said softly. She froze. “It’s too dangerous. You know that. You can’t even look at the fucking thing without turning into an M.C. Escher painting.”

“You seemed to have managed.”

“Exceptional circumstances.” Ones that I was still pretty fuzzy on. “And trust me, you really don’t want to try and replicate them.”

“So what do you want me to do, then? Just… give up?

Yes. “No. But, just. Drop this one. Find another lead.”

“I have spent a year and a half looking, and this has been the only one. But sure, I’ll just find another one under a rock.”

“Edith, it’s not a lead, it’s a weapon.” I clenched my fists. “I want her to be found too, you know that, right? But this… no-one can have it. It’s too dangerous.”

“I won’t use it.”

“You don’t have to. Someone else just has to hear you have it, and come and take it. Like we did when we set this whole mess off in the first place.”

“It would be worth it.”

“...would Eve agree?” I asked softly.

It was like I’d punched her in the gut. For a second, I almost thought she was going to collapse. Then the moment passed, and she recovered. She growled wordlessly at me, then disintegrated into a stream of salt and disappeared over the edge of the building.

I sighed, limped over to where the datapad lay, and carefully and methodically smashed it into a thousand tiny pieces.

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New 25-I

HANNAH
Not A Good Sound.

In the space between losing one body and ending up back in the other, I saw something. Only for a moment, only just the briefest flicker, but I still comprehended what it was.

It was me.

Or, not. Not quite. It looked like me, almost, but it- she, was made entirely up of strands of light, twisted together to form the shape of a person, like a hologram. The strands were every color I could imagine, and some I couldn’t, of varying thicknesses and opacities. The other me hung in a void of white, one hand reached out towards me, an expression of worry on her face. Instinctively, I reached out to grasp her hand-

And I woke up.

It wasn't as violent as before, when I'd been forced. I didn't slam back into the body so much as I was dropped. My senses returned, wind and exhaust and cold and blood, and then the pain came a second later. My head throbbed incessantly, and when I tried opening my eyes, my vision was almost entirely white, and swimming around the edges. There was still some blood in my mouth, and my lungs and stomach were as raw and painful. I coughed weakly, which only made the pain worse, and another splash of blood flew up into my mouth, making me gag. Some of it dribbled out of the corner of my mouth, and I tried to reach up and wipe it away.

My arm twitched slightly from where it lay at my side, but that was it. I frowned, and tried again. This time it jerked up a little further, but it was like the energy I was using away was bleeding away before it got to my arm. I tried moving my other limbs in turn, and got the same result. Even moving my head forward took a monumental amount of effort. Standing up, or even sitting up, was out of the question. I guess the internal beating wasn't the only consequence, I thought, too drained to be anything but wry.

I wasn't breathing properly either, I realized, which might explain why my vision was so faded. I concentrated on my lungs, putting as much effort as I could into every inhalation and exhalation, and slowly my brain started to come back into focus. I hadn't even realized the effect it had been having on me until it went away. What would've happened if I hadn't? Would I have continued to lie there, slowly asphyxiating without knowing? What a way to go, especially after everything I'd already-

The memories I'd temporarily managed to forget about came rushing back, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to banish the gory images from my mind, and failing miserably. Visions of blood, of body parts scattered across the pavement, filled my mind, and i lost control of my breathing again, devolving into short, panicked-

“Holy sh*t!”

I jerked my head up, which in my current state translated to raising it slightly. A second attempt managed to lift it far enough to see a pair of legs in front of me.

“Wisp?” a familiar voice asked. “Uh… Hannah? Are you…?”

After a couple of goes, I got my mouth moving in vaguely the right manner. “Hey Kai,” I slurred tiredly.

“Jesus,” she muttered, hunkering down into my field of view. Her face was covered in scratches, and a bruise was beginning to form on her cheekbone. One of the lenses on her sunglasses was cracked, and I could see a little bit of her eye through it. “What happened? To you, and, uh, in general.”

“Long story,” I murmured. “Really long, really awful story.”

“I’ll bet.” She rocked back a little. “Can you stand?”

I tried to laugh, but just sort of coughed instead. A little more blood trickled out of the corner of my mouth.

“...I’ll take that as a no.” She moved beside me and slipped one arm under mine and around my torso. I could barely feel it. “Come on, up.” She hauled me onto my feet, sending my head spinning, and she held me up as I recovered. “Let’s get you to a hospital.”

“No!” The force of the words surprised me as much as it did. “No,” I repeated, more calmly. “I don’t… it’s not a good idea.”

She looked me up and down, the implicit message obvious. But, thankfully, she didn’t protest. “Let’s get you to a train station, then."

"Er," I said as we began to limp off into the night. "About that."

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Speak 24-Vignette


I Am Sick.

One year and eight months ago, or thereabouts.

“Edith?” Flint asked hesitantly. He went to place a hand on her shoulder, but paused as she flinched away.

“...sorry,” she said after a moment.

“It’s okay,” he replied carefully. “Are you…”

She stared off into nothing, and didn’t reply.

“If you two are done with yer little cry-fest, I could use some help over here,” Lisette called irritatedly from the other side of the room. She was currently dragging the corpse on of the twins over to one corner of the room, where she’d already moved the halves of other one and Schism.

Flint ignored her, turning back to Edith. “E, I…” he trailed off, words failing him. His mind was still reeling; he’d gone from never seeing anyone die to four within the space of a minute. And that wasn’t even getting into who’d done the killing. And to whom it had been done. “Edith,” he repeated after a second. “I… what’s next? What happens now?”

For a second, he wasn’t sure she’d even heard her. Then, slowly, she let out a long breath, and seemed to… return to her body, he supposed. He wasn’t sure where she’d been, but he doubted it was pleasant. “I don’t know,” she said hoarsely, almost too quiet for him to hear. “I really don’t know.”

He put his hand on her shoulder again, and this time she didn’t jerk away.

“I’m… this was supposed to be it, you know?” she said quietly. He opened his mouth to reply, then realized it wasn’t really a question, and closed it again. “I was supposed to… she was supposed to…” she choked on the words for a second. “...she was supposed to be here. Everything that happened, everything I went through - everything I did. It was going to be worth it. For her. But now…” She made a vague gesture with one hand, and Flint tried not to flinch at the blood staining her skin. “I’m lost.”

“Sometimes…” he tried hesitantly, “life doesn’t work like that.”

He realized even before finishing that it was the wrong thing to say.

She spun on him, knocking his hand away. “Why not?!” she demanded, and he realized she was crying, eyes swollen and red. “Why can’t it?! Why should I have to go through all this, why should I have to suffer? Why should I have to kill and lie and fight my own mother, and then find out the whole reason I’ve been doing it is completely useless!” She was yelling by the end of it, and she shoved him violently back.

“Edith-” he began to say, but she cut him off.

She’s gone!” she screamed. “My. Sister. Is. Gone. She’s probably being… sold for parts in some third-world country, or- or-” her fists clenched, and blood started dripping from them. “...and I failed,” she finished, all the anger draining out of her as quickly as it had come. “I failed, Flint. It’s my fault she’s gone.”

“Edith, that’s not-”

“YO!” They both jumped, and turned to see Lisette waving at them, looking irritated. “Can I please get a hand here?”

“Give us a minute!” he replied. “Edith,” he continued, turning back, “this isn’t your-” But she was already moving, brushing past him and stalking over to where the other girl stood. Sighing, he followed.

Lisette had finished moving the corpses into their corner, where they lay in a limp pile on top of one another. A pool of blood had started to form underneath them, and a nauseating smell was beginning to drift over to them. Flint gagged involuntarily, but apart from a grimace on the latter’s part, neither Lisette nor Edith seemed particularly effective. Lisette was standing with her foot on the chest of Crusade, casually pointing a pistol at his head like it was the most natural thing in the world. Flint had seen people more tense while waiting for a bus, and, not for the first time, worried about the woman he’d gotten mixed up with.

“There’s no bounty on this one,” she said to Edith as they arrived, “so I personally don’ give a rat’s arse what happens to him. I can shoot him if ya want, but I’ll be wanting the fifty cents for the bullet.”

“We can’t kill him!” Flint protested. “Look at him!” The man in question was still unconscious, head lolled to one side and a string of drool stretching to the ground. “I can’t believe you’d-”

“Off,” Edith said quietly, waving a hand. Lisette shrugged, but acquiesced, stepping away, but keeping the gun drawn.

“Thank you,” Flint said, obviously relieved. “Can we-”

Edith stomped on Crusade’s stomach, hard. The Cabalist jerked upwards, choking, eyes slamming open.

“The fuck?!” Flint yelled involuntarily.

Ignoring him, she kept her foot on his stomach, and leant down close. One of her hands wrapped around his throat, not squeezing, but definitely considering it.

“Randall,” she said. Her voice was… empty. Like a robot. “You saw what happened to my mother. Either you give me a better answer, or the same thing happens to you. But this time, I won’t make it quick. You’ll probably bleed out before I finish cutting, to be honest. I’m not too concerned. The end result is the same.”

“Edith,” Flint said, staring at her in horror, “what the fuck.”

“So,” she continued, ignoring him. “What happened to Eve. Who did my mother sell her to. And how can I find them.” She drew back the hand around his throat, and it suddenly turned into a whirling blade of salt. “Think fast.”

“I don’t know!” he blurted out immediately, eyes wide and shaking. “I never met them, it was all-”

The salt blade grew closer, and he cried out as blood flew from his neck. “Wrong answer,” Edith said dispassionately.

“...they never gave a name,” he said hurriedly. “A man just… appeared in here. Said they’d been watching us, that they could offer us power, if we gave them… people.”

“Any people?”

“N-no. They had to have powers, or be closely related to someone who did. That’s why-”

“When was the last time he was here.”

“A-a few months ago.”

“Did he say how he found you.”

“N-no.”

“What did he look like.”

“L-large. Tall, white. Had a beard, bald, wore a suit.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Randall,” she said, and cut his head off.

Flint stared at her in muted shock as she stood up, dusting her hands off. “E-edith, wh-”

She spun on him. “You know what kind of person he was! What kind of things he did! He didn’t deserve to be alive any more.”

Lisette nodded, seeming impressed. “Checks out fer me.”

“What was the point!” he yelled. “So many people had already died, why did there have to be one more?!”

“So that there were no witnesses,” she said grimly.

“W-what?” he stammered, caught off-balance.

“This person thought the Cabal could work for them. Serve their purpose. My mother is gone, but the Cabal doesn’t have to be.”

Realization dawned on him. “Edith, no. No no no no no, you can’t.”

“It’s the only way, Flint.” The words sounded like she was pleading, but as she met his eyes, he found them completely empty. “It’s the only lead I have.”

“Edith, you’d have to- you just said, everything you’ve done-”

“Will be worth nothing if I don’t find her,” she shot back. “If I stop here, everything I’ve done will be for nothing.” Something, some unreadable expression, shone through on her face for a moment, only to disappear again. “...I can’t do that, Flint.”

“So, what,” he demanded, “you’re going to become your mother? Take over? You’re sixteen, Edith. And half the Cabal are dead, anyway!”

“I’ll make it work,” she snapped. “By any means necessary.”

Flint looked down at the corpse of Crusade, and then at the pile in the corner, and a shiver ran down his spine. “Edith,” he tried again, “please. This isn’t right. This isn’t going to solve anything. Let’s just… let’s just go. Let’s leave this fucking building and never come back, let’s go home and get all the blood off and put this entire thing behind us. Please.

She stared at him. “...no,” she said at least, so impossibly tired. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Flint. I need to do this. This blood,” she raised her stained hands, “isn’t ever coming off. I might as well get some use out of it.”

She turned and began walking away. “Edith!” he called after her. “I’ll… I’ll report you! To the Tower, I’ll tell them about-”

“No,” she said sadly, without turning around. “You won’t.”

He watched her leave, and wished she was wrong.

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Speak 24-VII

Face The Flame.

Hanging there, almost floating above the buildings, time seemed to slow.

I hadn't had a chance to look away, or close my eyes. And once I'd even glanced at the symbols on the screen of the datapad, it became impossible to look away. Literally: I was trying as hard as I could, but I couldn't even make my eyeballs twitch.

And they were just symbols, just like Tali had said. Strange, whirling shapes that swelled and shrank, jagged in places, curved in others. I couldn't tell where any of them started or ended, but that didn't stop my eyes from trying, following the paths until it felt like I was falling into them.

However they worked, they were definitely working. I could feel it, a growing, swelling pain that felt like it was somehow coming from two feet behind my skull. It grew and grew and grew, in an instant that felt like an eternity, until I couldn't even think. My stomach began spiking with pain too-

No. Not my stomach. My core.

As soon as I realized that, I could see it clearly. The well of cold power inside me wasn't placid anymore. It roiled, boiling and spiking outwards, feeling like it was tearing my insides apart. It had never even flickered without me directing it before this, and now it felt like it was trying to fight me, destroy me.

Or… take over.

Fuck that. I reached down into the well, grabbing at the power like I always did. This time, it resisted, burning and stabbing me, but I ignored the pain and took hold of it.

That hurt even more.

As soon as I did, though, the world fell away. Oh, now I can do it again?! But… no. It was different this time. Before, I’d seen the lines of motion in ethereal silver and powers in their respective colors, overlaid on a faded, monochrome world. Now, though, it was like I was seeing… underneath. Peeking behind the curtain, maybe.

The world was gone. It just wasn’t. No light, no dark, nothing. We hung in a void of absolute emptiness, two glowing figures made of light. That was another change; I wasn’t seeing out of my own eyes. It was like I was a few feet behind my own head, looking at myself and the other guy, suspended in…

Wait, no. That wasn’t me, or him. They were in the same positions as us, and about the same size, but aside from that… The one in my position was mostly made of yellow light, streaked with other colors in places, and it didn’t have a head, its neck ending in strange, jagged white shards. It did have seven limbs; two extra arms, stunted and malformed, and an extra leg that split off its left just above the knee. The additional limbs looked almost like they’d been grafted on; the joins had the same white shards as the neck. The weirdest thing, though, was that it was broken, like a porcelain statue that had been hit with a hammer. Fragmentation lines ran across it like an earthquake, and pieces and shards hung and angled away from gaps in its form.

The other one was mostly the same, except unbroken, mostly purple (specked with green), no extra limbs, and significantly larger. Its head was the only part of it that was a different color, glowing a bright mix of yellow and red. Those weird white shards joined it to the body, and it was completely featureless.

I had, frankly, no idea what I was looking at, and I didn’t have the time to ponder it, because it was gone a nanosecond later and I was back in my own head. And then it was back. Gone, back, gone, back… the two images flickered back and forth until it looked like they were overlayed.

Which, okay, great, fancy colors. I’m trying not to die here, thanks very much. I did my best to ignore the colors, and slowly began dragging power out of my core-

And as I did, the yellow silhouette began to move.

Ohhhhh.

Alright then.

I pulled every last drop of power I could out of the well, draining it dry. It felt like dragging a cat made out of flaming knives, but I managed to get it, and send it lashing out, in the same unfocused manner that had made the roof shatter.

Not at the big guy, though.

At the red silhouette that was his power.

Time resumed, and a couple of things happened at once.

One, both the silhouettes disappeared. My one, the yellow one, almost looked like it was siphoned away, tearing forward and vanishing. The red on, though, shattered. And back in the real world, the big guy screamed in agony and let go of me.

I wasn't really paying attention, though, because I was kind of going through the same thing, although less violent. I hoped. The plan had made a simple sort of sense in the microseconds I’d had. If my power was turning against me, all I had to do was give it nothing to work with; the tank can’t explode if it’s empty. Problem was, normally I leave a sliver of power left untouched no matter what, because as long as there’s even the tiniest bit left, it keeps filling back up at the normal rate. Going to completely empty, though, that basically knocked it out for a little while, and when it did eventually start trickling back in, it’d be much slower for a while.

All that was a bit secondary, though, to how much it fucking hurt.

I’m not gonna bother with some clever metaphor or whatever. It just fucking hurt. I spun through the air, clutching my head with both hands, eyes scrunched shut. They stung pretty badly, and I felt liquid streaming through my fingers.

Bleeding eyes. That was new.

We hit the rooftop at the same time, even though in his emaciated state I probably weighed twice what he did. I tumbled and rolled, something in my torso crunching painfully, and came to a stop against something large and uncomfortable. I groaned, still clutching my head, and waited for the spinning and the pain to stop. The former did after a few seconds, but the latter seemed to be sticking around, so I gritted my teeth and raised my head, to find the big guy looking at me. He looked about as beat-up as me, covered in grazes and scrapes, and in about as much pain. We locked gazes for a second, and then, in synch, our eyes darted downwards to the datapad on the ground in between us.

I was in a better position, but he was faster. We both got there at the same time, hands grasping at the pad’s smooth surface. He yanked it away, but I punched him in the chin, knocking him backwards. I jumped on him, reaching for the pad, but he hit me in the gut and we both went down. I landed on top, driving my weight into the arm that held the pad. It shot out of his grasp, skittering across the concrete, and I dived for it, but just before my hand closed around it, a shadow rolled over me.

I managed to spin around just in time to catch one of his hands. I tried to get the other one, but, no hand. It pinned me to the ground, while the other strained against my grip, fingers strained like he was trying to tear my eyes out from a foot away.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” he roared in my face, spittle flying everywhere. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!” I was in a bad position, I couldn’t keep up the same level of force, and his hand slowly began descending towards my face.

“Aww,” I said, straining and sweating, “don’t you like… being brought down to normal?” I couldn’t fight him, so I stopped resisting and instead redirected his hand so it slammed into the ground next to my head. It sent shards of concrete flying out, and I used the moment to drive a knee up into his torso. He winced, but didn’t give me an inch, and he slammed me back down into the floor.

My head spun, and before I could react, he grabbed my neck with both hands and started squeezing. “BRING IT BACK!” he yelled as he choked me. “GIVE IT BACK TO ME!”

My vision started to cloud and go grey. I opened my mouth, gasping for breath, but nothing came. Slowly, my head sank towards my chest.

“HOW?!” he roared, shaking me back and forth as he leaned in close. “YOU ARE NOTHING! YOU ARE A USELESS, BROKEN PEST! HOW HAVE YOU-”

I whipped my head forward, slamming it into his. He reeled back, grip broken, and I surged upwards as glorious air returned to my lungs, hand reaching for his head. Still dizzy, I managed to clap it over his ear, and dug my thumb into his eye as hard as I could.

He screamed in pain, slamming a fist into my core and breaking something, but I grit my teeth and kept grinding it away until I felt a pop and fluid ran down his cheek. I let go as he continued to roar, took the next punch on my handless arm, fracturing it, and grabbed his genitals and squeezed as hard as I could.

The screams shot up in pitch, and I let him drop to the ground. “You wanna know why?” I spat as he writhed on the ground. “You wanna know how?”

I met his eyes, and bared a bloodstained grin. “I have no fucking idea.”

I raised my less-injured leg, and stomped on his head until he stopped moving.

I stared down at the bloody mess on the ground, all the energy draining out of me. “That,” I slurred, my tongue not functioning properly any more, “was for Edith.”

And then my eyes rolled back in my head, and I collapsed unconscious.

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Speak 24-VI

Murderers Try To Hurt Us.

CW: graphic descriptions of gore.

You know people will sometimes talk about how something hurts too much to even register? How something is so excruciatingly painful that it just stops registering with the brain?

Yeah, that’s a load of fuckin’ horseshit. Because he crushed my right hand into a pulp, and I felt every single second of it.

I blacked out after a few seconds, screaming at the top of my lungs, but even that didn’t make the pain go away. I hung in a void, no light, no sound, no thought, just agony. Then I slammed into the ground, and my senses returned, the edges of my vision clouded with red. I was still screaming, I realized, but my throat was too raw to even produce sound, so it was just sort of a weird, raspy whistling noise. I might’ve found that funny, if I wasn’t completely consumed with my hand.

It was… it was a fucking sphere. A lumpy, uneven sphere of flesh and bone, maybe half the size of what my clenched fist had been. Blood leaked and trickled from every part of it, and I could see the marrow inside one of the pieces of bone and then I threw up.

I hadn’t really eaten since the morning, so it was mostly vile. Honestly, I barely even noticed the burn in my throat, considering, you know, my hand had been turned into a fucking cannibal’s gobstopper.

I ran out of breath to keep on screaming, so I started hyperventilating instead; it seemed fairly appropriate. My vision started to waver and grow blurry, and thankfully this time the pain started to fade away with it. I slowly began to topple forwards, falling straight into the blissful, open arms of unconsciousness-

And then Edith punched me.

I snapped back, both mentally and physically; the pain jolting me back to lucidity, and also sending my head physically backwards. It also brought back the pain.

I screamed again, so Edith punched me again. “Stop,” she snapped. “Your hand is useless, agreed?”

“W-what?”

Your hand,” she repeated, “is useless. Agreed?”

I didn’t really understand why she was asking, but there was not really any way to deny it. “Y-yes,” I stammered, “but-”

“Good,” she said, and sliced it off at the wrist.

I gaped, frozen, as the lump that used to be my hand dropped to the ground, bouncing a few times before settling. My… stump spurted blood a few times, but then it just… stopped. I stared at it in morbid fascination, until a jerk on my shoulders snapped me out of it.

“Hold still,” Edith growled, moving back around into my field of vision, holding a strip of cloth that, I realized a second later, she’d cut off of my cape. With surprising skill, she wrapped it around the stump, making a possible tourniquet. “Now get up and make yourself useful.”

Too shocked to really reply, I stood, actually registering the surroundings for the first time. I couldn’t figure out exactly what had happened while I was… otherwise occupied, but it was pretty obvious it had been violent. Thick, uneven gashes had been carved into the ground all around us, and blood had splattered in various places. There was no sign of the big guy, though, and a second later I realized why.

The sound of churning concrete had been coming from behind us the entire time, but I’d been too distracted to notice it. The realization of what that meant brought my brain back into focus, and I spun around, just in time for the noise to stop.

The big guy picked up the datapad with a satisfied sigh. “Much better,” he said with a smile.

Edith glared at me like it my fault. Which, uh. It was.

So…

“Go!” she snapped, and we both charged forward. I wasn’t sure if I was coping really well with the loss of my hand, or if I was just in shock, but either way, I’d take it. I clenched my remaining hand into a fist as we closed in. I’d pay him back for that, I decided.

“You know,” he boomed as we drew close, “I’ve just realized something.”

“Would you,” Edith snarled, “SHUT. UP!” The spear of salt she became speared a hole straight through his torso, but he didn’t seem to care, even as gore splattered out the other side and stained the salt.

“Would you care to know what it is?” he continued conversationally, spinning around to deliver a backhand to Edith as she reformed, knocking her off to the side.

“Listen to the lady,” I suggested as I tried kicking him in the nuts. He blocked it again, but it had been a feint, and I punched him in the face. With my right hand, I realized a second too late.

I reeled back as pain washed through me. Stupid stupid stupid stupid! He went to hit me, but Edith came in from the side and carved a gash in his torso. He was slowing down, I realized.

“You see, I’m very fast,” he said, sounding amused. The fact that he was still standing was ridiculous. He barely had any flesh left!

“Gee,” I growled, staggering back upright. “We hadn’t noticed.”

“But that’s not all.” He tossed the datapad up into the air, and I jerked forward instinctively, eyes locked on it. Edith was quicker, though, and she was there in an instant, arm outstretched to grab it.

He was quicker still, though. He splintered for the barest instant, his fragments blinking over to the datapad, and then he reformed.

Around Edith.

I felt like I’d run into a brick wall. Or like I’d been punched in the face. Or… like I’d just seen my ex-girlfriend get consumed by a human abattoir. There’s not really any simile you can use for that.

He dropped to the ground, catching the datapad again. Did he have more mass now? Oh god. “I’m also,” he continued like nothing had happened, strolling up to me, “very, very strong.” He grabbed me by the collar before I could react. “So I don’t need to carry you to somewhere more populated.” He drew me in close, and I could smell the awful smell of rotting meat on his breath as he whispered in my face. “I just need to throw you.”

He jumped, and once again we rocketed into the air, shooting up above the buildings.

And just before we reached the apex, he shoved the datapad in my face. 

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If you support getting Skywalkered,  vote for Outliers on Topwebfiction, or rate or leave a review on Webfictionguide. Every bit of support helps keep the story going, and, more importantly, stroke my ego.